Holly looks shocked and then laughs. “Oh my God, Dad. I’m not a stalker. I wanted to pick up some supplies, that’s all.”
My pulse calms a little. “No boys. I can’t go back to prison.”
She chuckles. “I’m glad you’re doing this, Dad.”
“Doing what?”
“This date,” she says, loading her eggs onto the toast to make a sandwich. “You’ve been single as long as I can remember. You should find someone, you know? Not every woman is going to treat you like Mom did.”
My breath catches in my throat. “This isn’t a date,” I tell her, despite what I said when I asked Poppy out. “This is about being…” I don’t know what to say. I sure as fuck don’t want to tell my fifteen-year-old daughter that I couldn’t think of a better way to see the sexy salon owner again. “Grateful. She did right by you girls, and paying the bill was the least she deserved. Dinner is a gesture.”
Holly gives me a smug smile. “Okay, Dad. Whatever you say. It’s totally not a date because you’re not single and Poppy isn’t beautiful. Cool. Got it.”
“Text me when you need a ride,” I grumble, shaking my head.
These girls. They are too damned smart for their own good—ormyown good.
I shout goodbye to Daisy through the patio doors and hop on my bike. This may be my new normal at home, but it’s business as usual at the club. And Daddy’s got to go to work.
7
POPPY
The entire rideto the restaurant, Jax has been quiet. I assumed he was absorbed in drawing something on his iPad, but when I park the car, he says, “If it sucks, can we leave?”
I turn to face him in the back seat. “If what sucks? Dinner?” I ask. I shouldn’t be surprised that Jax has questions or maybe even anxiety about going out tonight. We’ve never done anything like this before.
He shrugs. “What if it’s boring?”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Honey, we’re having dinner. That’s all. We’ll eat and we’ll go.” I say it to him because it’s the same thing I’ve been telling myself all week. “Are you nervous?”
I ask him the question I haven’t dared even to think. Because I am nervous as hell. I changed my outfit six times. The first two skirts seemed too frivolous. Black jeans felt like what I wear to work. The wrap dress I dusted off was flattering but so low-cut, Iknew the only thing I’d be able to think about all night was covering my cleavage.
I finally put on a dress I bought eight years ago. I had no idea back then that I’d have no more date nights.
But tonight, I feel pretty and so nervous, I’ve been fighting the urge to puke all afternoon.
“I’m not nervous,” Jax says.
But I’m not convinced.
I reach my hand behind me and squeeze his knee. “We’ve got this,” I tell him. “Come on. We eat, we talk to some nice new people, and we go back home and watch movies. Deal?”
He nods, unbuckles himself, and jumps out, tucking his tablet in the pocket on the back of the seat.
We walk side by side through the parking lot, and I see Phantom standing out front with Holly and Daisy.
My heart catches in my throat at the sight of him. “That’s them,” I whisper, my hand resting lightly on Jax’s back.
Jax’s head whips toward me. “That guy? What is he, a superhero? He’s huge.”
I chuckle, remembering in that minute that my little boy, who happens to love animation and drawing, is still a little boy. Of course he’d think Phantom looks like a comic book hero. Most of the teachers he has are women and out-of-shape middle-aged men. I don’t think he’s ever seen anyone in real life who looks like Phantom.
I wave, and I watch as Phantom’s eyes travel from my hair, down my dress, to my shoes and back.
“Are we late?” I ask. “Have you been waiting long?”
Daisy is the one who answers. “We told our dad it was good date etiquette to get here first.” She looks from me to Jax. “Hi, I’m Daisy.” She sticks out her hand, and my son dutifully shakes it.
